on generational snobbery

I know I am standing on the shoulders of greatness.
Surrounded by a great cloud of strong witnesses.
And because they are, I am.

I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams and this is something I can never forget because it lives in my heart, mind, soul, and bones.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what I’m calling generational snobbery: the tendency to judge the lives, choices, and survival strategies of our parents and grandparents using the language, tools, and moral frameworks of today.

And to be fair, this instinct is not one-directional.

Older generations have also struggled to understand younger ones — their language, pace, values, and questions.

Because what looks like softness to one generation may feel like survival to another.
And what looks like recklessness to some may simply be fluctuation or adaptation to a different world.

This tension is not new.
It’s friction that comes with the forward motion of time and technology.

And that friction is here to remind us that humility is required on every side of generational divides.

My mother was focused on work, bills, faith — and survival.
Heavy on the work.
Heavy on the bills.
Heavy on the faith.

There was no time or money for counseling, healing modalities, or extended reflection. Life was about putting one foot in front of the other and keeping things afloat.

And we made room when and where we could — occasional games, laughter, family gatherings, and help from loved ones, especially when things were tight, which was often.

I am so thankful for that help because many times we were barely making it, even with her working around the clock.

Economically, we had very little.
But relationally, we were rich.

Rich in love.
Rich in presence.
Rich in people who showed up, even when they were tired, stressed, and stretched thin.

We did not have abundance of money — but we had abundance of commitment and heart.

We were steeped in strong work ethic, faith, and a spirit of excellence — gifts I still carry with me to this day.

So as we grow and progress, it’s important to remember that it’s not our job to judge the seasons and times of our ancestors using the plumb line of today.

Context matters.
Access matters.
Survival matters.

I’ve heard people say about enslaved ancestors, “We’re not our ancestors — we never would have put up with that.”

Statements like this usually comes from distance, not courage.

It’s easy to imagine ourselves braver when we’ve never had to survive the daily horror of state-sanctioned enslavement or legalized genocide within systems designed to crush humanity.

We absolutely still live with deeply flawed systems today; however, they are not the same.

We do ourselves no favors by flattening history or minimizing the unimaginable resilience required to survive certain eras.

Do not diminish the struggles of your parents and grandparents by comparing timelines that do not go together.

One day, someone living in a better timeline may look back and judge us today much more harshly than we deserve.

I do not want to judge any generation.

Because most people are likely doing the best they can with what they have at hand.

There are outliers, yes — and it matters to name them.

I am not speaking about or giving a pass to evil-doers here.

I am speaking about good-willed, good-natured people who are trying their very best, often under impossible circumstances, and deserving of grace.

And at the same time, humility across generations does not mean that we abandon discernment.

There are some truths that remain constant regardless of context or era.

Refusing to grow up.
Refusing to take responsibility for one’s life.
Refusing to contribute to the wellbeing of society and others.
Refusing accountability when harm is done.

These patterns damage both individuals and communities, regardless of era or century.

Compassion for context and clarity about truth must live together.

Discernment requires that we hold them both.

My grandparents carried fears and biases rooted in their reality — fears that helped them survive.

I walk in their wisdom and amalgamate truth for a different time: my time.

I hold what is life-giving, question what needs questioning, and leave what no longer serves.

And I trust that the next generations will do the same.

There are no perfect scenarios — only humans doing the best they can to hold the balance and manage the tensions assigned to them in their lifetime.

This is the work of telling the truth without flattening anyone’s humanity.

It requires humility.
It requires discernment.
And it requires courage to hold them both at the same time.

I want to be found in that number.

I imagine you do too.